Hearts of our own
by The Fairweather League
Summary: A very long one-shot of Canada and Ukraine, and centering around their love life throughout their relationship. Very fluffy and very cute. Main pairing is *CanUkr* RusAme is a background pairing in this, and ChuNi is very briefly mentioned twice.


"**You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough,"**

**-Mae West**

* * *

An ear-splitting crack resounded throughout the plain landscape, and, with no warning heeded, burst into sparks of yellow and green, blue, red, and dark violet.

Cheers erupted from the expectant crowd below. Having waited so long for the official start of The 4th of July, and finally knowing by the glowing sky above that the horrible, aching sensation of their yearly interval was assuredly at an end; it drove them to a now traditional madness. And a good type of obsession at that, but there was a heed of insanity nonetheless.

At least, that was Ukraine's first impression of America's holiday. Beautiful; stunning. Filled with joy and a sense of freshness that seemed forever present in the air, but also just a tad bizarre and, to put it bluntly, completely batty.

But Matthew seemed content enough; this strange celebration didn't really appear to faze him, even if it wasn't actually his holiday.

Now, America, on the other hand…

Casting a worried and concerned glance to the jumping, hysterical blonde country punching at the air and squeezing his younger Canadian brother in a loving, but still overly-brotherly manner, Ukraine let out a tiny sigh of distress. Oh, she did fear for Alfred's sake so much these past few months. He was acting so much more flustered (though he still managed to regain his impossibly secure confidence at just the wrong times) and so much more high-strung than was usual for him.

Now, Ukraine knew why, of course, and so did Canada and even America's lover and Ukraine's former brother, Russia, but it was still incredibly unsettling to see that mischievous, up-to-no-good glint in his impossibly blue eyes every time you looked into them.

"Isn't this great, Mattie!" America laughed, pulling his younger sibling into yet another bone-crushing hug. "Another 4th of July come; can you believe it was a whole year since the last one? I don't know about you, but it just _blows_ my mind…"

America stopped short, and there was again that feral grin spreading slowly on his face and that look in his eyes, one that Ukraine had grown accustomed to over the course of the start of her new relationship with a certain Canadian nation, as he turned swiftly around to stare Ukraine straight in her eyes. She instantly froze up, feeling every limb, every muscle and nerve in her body tense.

Ukraine knew what was to come, and, needless to say, she was not looking forward to it at all.

"Yo, Ukraine!" America shouted, beckoning the now shivering female nation over towards him and a paralyzed Canada (courtesy of Alfred's loving…_hugs_, if you could call them that). "You want to join us? There's plenty of room, and God knows _Matthew_ could use a bit of company. I mean, just look at him!"

Making a faux expression of utmost concern, America none-too-gently grabbed Canada by his shoulders and made his best doe-eyes towards Ukraine, knowing with an almost scary certainty that she would be powerless to resist his innocence factor, however fake and thought out it may be. Matthew, now regaining control of his limbs, blushed a light red and shook his head, whether at his brother's absurd determination to couple Ukraine and himself even further, or as a warning to Ukraine not to get too close, nobody knew.

Ukraine hesitantly took a quivering step forward, not wanting to tally America even further, but longing to close the agonizingly small amount of distance between herself and Canada. She was slightly ashamed to admit this, even to herself, but my, oh my, was Matthew adorable. The cutest, really. With that pale, curling blonde hair, a bit like his brother's but not to so yellow or messy, his forever kind face, completely smooth and pearly, and those odd violet eyes that so reminded Ukraine of Russia's amethyst ones, but were exceedingly paler and a bit more colorless, though still beautiful.

Stumbling a bit over her words, and Ukrainian accent becoming a bit deeper and pronounced, Ukraine said, "Ah, _da, _America…I'm coming!" Though Ukraine had been doing a reasonably well job of keeping her voice calm and controlled, (or, at least as far as "calm and controlled" went for Ukraine) her last words came out as a cry, and, with a deep sense of humiliation, she felt tiny tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

America laughed, not unkindly at all, but in a rather affectionate, cheery way, but his mirth only forced the sickening feeling of shame more forcefully upon Ukraine. Canada was trying hard not to stare at the Russian nation, instead keeping his eyes determinately on the ground. Ukraine felt her heart plummet at the sight of him. Was he regretting coupling with her? Did he not love her?

"So…Mattie, Ukraine, how's it been going with you two? You guys _have _hit off by now, right?" America asked, grinning at the ferocious pink that covered both Ukraine's and Canada's faces now. "I mean, just by going off how long you two have been dating by now, I'd of thought that, well, you know…"

"We've been together for three months, America!" Canada said sharply, an unusually fierce flicker in his pale eyes. Alfred did not look surprised at this sudden change of personality, only amused. This, of course, made Canada even more frustrated. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he continued in a much less grim tone, "That's not very long for a couple to grant intimacy. And anyway, it's really not much of your business. Ukraine and I enjoy our privacy, and you're not really making matters simpler."

At this, Canada put one arm sheepishly around an embarrassed Ukraine, and managed a slight smile. Ukraine's beet-red face did not lessen or increase in its flaming shade, but her eyes turned suddenly happy at the touch of physical contact from Matthew. Canada wasn't a distant or cold lover, in fact, he was actually very warm and very kind and gentle, but her worries always became so out of control and wild, even if she knew how ridiculous and unfounded they were. It was a stupid habit of hers that had developed over the many years of a complicated love/hate relationship with her sister and brother.

"I'm not _trying _to get involved in your "personal life", Mattie," America said, obviously enjoying the reaction he was getting. Ukraine was smiling, and Canada was holding her. Perfect. Time to execute mission couple Canada and Ukraine. "You two just make it so easy. Listen you guys," America suddenly had a stern look on his face, and he pointed at both Canada and Ukraine, his eyes narrowing. "You two are nothing but perfect together, and I'll do anything it takes to get at the very least a wedding out of you two. Capisce?"

Ukraine looked very embarrassed at Alfred's words, but Canada only sighed, exasperated, and nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Fine, Alfred. Whatever makes you happy. Listen, as long as you're planning our wedding day, could you go and see if they have maps for Yellowstone here? Weren't we going to visit after the fireworks show was over? It's just that it was your idea in the first place, and we wouldn't want to upset you…"

There was every sign of danger in Matthew's eyes, but, of course Alfred, being unable to "sense the mood", took the suggestion like the oblivious, lovable blonde he was.

America grinned, apparently sure that he had good as well scheduled his brother's marriage. "Of course I will! Here, you guys stay here, and I'll be right back!"

As he was running to the other side of the field, America turned back and shouted so that, had the fireworks not been set off at jut that moment, heads would have turned. "And don't go anywhere!"

And he kept running.

Canada turned after a moment, sure America had gone, and smiled at Ukraine. He held out his hand to her, and after she took it, not to red in the face but still flustered, he pulled her gently up.

Ukraine glanced swiftly around Matthew's head, and turning to look him back in the face again, she asked, "Is he gone?"

Nodding, Canada let a sneaky, rare grin cross his face. It made him look devious, up to no good; America-like. "By now? Yes, he should be…"—Canada suddenly looked thoughtful, though there was a couth teasing light in his eyes that ruined the affect.—"…But the fireworks show is almost over. Do you think we should just leave now, or wait for America…? He always takes his time…"

Ukraine had to resist the urge to laugh, so she settled for a smile instead. She nodded and slipped one arm through Matthew's and leaned slightly into his side. "_Da_. I'm sure he won't miss us."

* * *

"Canada," a voice called loudly, barely heard over the "boom" of the fireworks above, "Ukraine! Where are you? I'm back with the maps, and they were a damn sight harder to find than—

"Russia!" America suddenly yelled, surprise, and just a hint of annoyance in his tone. He temporarily halted his search for Canada as he started in a steady jogged toward his lover. "What are you doing here? You said you couldn't came; that your boss was waning on bankruptcy, and that you—"

Leaning over slightly so as to stun America back into silence once again, Russia gently kissed Alfred on his forehead, and brushed a few stray locks of gold hair away from his pouting face. Russia smiled at his apparent cuteness, which only served to…enrage America even further.

"I am sorry, Fredka, but you see, I find many of your holidays too loud and too wild to attend. It's not that I think _you _are too loud or too wild," Russia said matter-of-factly and patted America's head as though he was a small child, which America swatted away, "_Nyet_, you have just the perfect amount of hyper-activeness in you, but many American festivals are. My apologies. It will not happen again unless it's April Fool's or The Fourth."

"Small comfort," America snarled, making Russia not frightened, but only served to make him all the more cheery. "You could at least _tell _me that you didn't want to come! Honesty is an important virtue, you know. It's not like I would've minded. At least, not that much, anyway.

"Well, as long as you're here, _finally,_" America continued stiffly, tone turning exasperated, "You could help me find Mattie and Ukraine. I went to get a map for Yellowstone, but they took off while I was gone, and I can't find them anywhere…"

Russia listened to Alfred intently while he went on and on, explaining worst-case scenarios of what could have possibly become of their two siblings, many of which included alien abductions, English magic, the Italian mafia, and Mexican assassinations.

"…See, Mexico's had this really awful grudge against me ever since that incident with Texas," Alfred rapped his glasses smartly, "and he probably figured that, in return, Mattie would be the only way to—"

For the second time that day, Russia interrupted him. America looked annoyed, but he allowed the bigger man to continue on, not that he had much of a choice.

"_Америка_," Russia said, heliotrope eyes glancing down to stare Alfred full on in the face. "I do not understand what you mean. Did you not know? _Украина _and that…brother (Russia obviously wanted to say something other than "brother", but in front of Alfred, he didn't dare) of yours stopped by the café I had visited on my way here. They left. I do not think Mexico kidnapped them and held them hostage.

"And if he did," Ivan cracked his knuckles menacingly, and a purple-ish black aura so strong that a few bystanders backed away, looking frightened, surrounded his body. His eyes were those of nothing less than a madman, flashing and darkening with contempt and threat. "Then he would have me to answer to."

Looking just a tad nervous, America backed away slightly and turned his gaze downwards to the dark grass underneath his feet. He muttered something under his breath that sounded a bit like, "Yeah, I got that."

"But anyway," Russia said cheerfully, returning suddenly to his usual, "innocent" self, "The fact still stands: there is nothing to worry about. No reason. Ukraine has probably returned home, and, hopefully, if Canada knows what is good for him, has followed suite.

"Really, Alfred, you worry too much," Russia giggled and leaned over to pat America's blonde head again.

Now extremely red in the face, (whether from Russia's contact or from anger at their siblings disappearance) America flopped to the ground like a ragdoll broken from its strings. Though there was still great annoyance and anger in his eyes, his slight pout and the hand resting on his cheek gave him the appearance of a skulking child rather than a very angered, "ferocious" American.

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?" Alfred asked, frowning as Russia sat down beside him and rested one arm around the other's broad shoulders. "Mattie and Ukraine have already abandoned us; what are we supposed to do with the night now? Just sit it out? It doesn't feel right celebrating The Fourth with no Canada."

Smiling softly, Russia pulled America into his chest, (maybe not being as careful as he could have been, seeing as he does often forget his own strength, and America landed face-down in Russia's lap) and refrained from patting the half-struggling blonde's head.

"Do not worry, Fredka," Russia said, next words becoming muffled as he buried his face in America's shoulder, close to his neck. He could smell the younger countries scent. Like vanilla. "You have me, and I will always remain by your side."

America blushed slightly and muttered something about "Saying corny jokes", but Ivan only ignored him. He closed his eyes, making the world dark and the only sources of light being frantic glows of colors that frequently appeared in his closed sight, and let Alfred's steady breathing, the slow beating of his heart lull him into a deep sleep.

* * *

Canada nervously picked at his food, poking gingerly at the baked fish lying unresponsively on his plate. Frowning, he speared a particularly thin piece of whitish salmon, and examined it carefully, as though checking it for poison.

"Matthew," Ukraine said softly, eyes rising from her now empty plate of borsch. Canada looked up from his meal, blushed once he met Ukraine's eyes with his own, and waited patiently for his girlfriend to continue.

Ukraine gulped and continued, "Matthew, you have been very tense lately. I wanted to ask you if something was wrong…? Just in case, and, well, you seem…unhappy."

Eyes widening in an embarrassed manner, Canada clenched his hands together and shifted nervously in his seat. Ukraine, now getting seriously worried, for Matthew was very rarely so unsecure around her, started again.

"Matthew, please, if something is the matter, why don't you just tell me—?"

"If something is the matter?" Canada repeated, staring. "Nothing's wrong, really, Katyusha, it's just…"

Ukraine took the expression one might adopt whilst at the bed of a sick relative, and asked, "Just what, Matthew?"

Shivering slightly now, Canada fisted his napkin, and forced himself to stare into Ukraine's beautiful, beautiful eyes. Their teal shade seemed to bore into Matthew's very soul; they shook him into facing the very uncomfortable conclusion: it was now or never.

"Listen, Katyusha, we have been dating for a year and a half, and we've known each other even longer than that. I think, I think…" Ukraine continued to look on in concern, pushing Canada into his conclusion.

"It's just that…" Matthew pulled a tiny, deeply-colored violet box from the pocket of his coat, and opened it to Ukraine, whose expression of worry switched instantly to shock. "Will you marry me?"

His last words were pushed from his throat, and they came out a bit louder than he had intended, and, before he or Ukraine knew it, every pair of eyes in the restaurant was on them.

Still stunned, Ukraine continued to look on at the box, and the small silver ring twinkling inside of it, and just as Canada was starting to worry that she would decline, tell him that she was not interested, she practically screamed, not caring that there were so many people around them, "Yes! Yes, oh God, Matthew, yes, I will marry you!"

Grinning, Ukraine jumped from her seat and pounced Canada. Wolf-whistles and cheers and claps coming from the other customers were heard all around them, but neither Matthew nor Katyusha could have cared less. Canada smiled, slipped the ring on her waiting finger, and kissed her.

His planned engagement was now their own.

* * *

"Ukraine, here, let me just tie this up, and knot it—"

"Ow!" Ukraine groaned, eyes closing and face scrunching as she felt something sharp poke at her bare back. She felt tiny tears appear at the edges of her eyes, but she easily shook them off. Ever since she had went a few months with dating Matthew, she had become noticeably tougher and willed.

That knowledge brought a small smile to Ukraine's face, temporarily dispelling the pain from her body. She shook her hair out slightly as she felt it untangle from its once-elegant knot from her little outburst. "Could you maybe be just a bit more careful, _сестра_?"

"Oh, well, I'm so sorry, _Украина_," Belarus hissed aggressively, eyes turning to slits as she purposely tugged harder on the knotted strings on the edges of Ukraine's wedding dress, making Ukraine double over slightly. "Unlike _you_, I am not marrying the man of my dreams, because that _stupid, idiotic, unworthy_"—Belarus had managed to fix Ukraine's dress, and as she tightened the last knot, she pulled hard—"American has obviously forced Brother Russia to marry him! And no one even speaks out! It's not fair, and I'm the only one who can see the bastard's attempt. He obviously—"

"Loves our brother," Ukraine finished for her, running her hands through her now long hair. It reached to just a bit higher than her waist, and though she had to admit it looked quite pretty on her, it was a pain, and she missed short hair. "Please, Bela, why can you not just accept that our brother loves America? They are so happy and beautiful together; you should be happy for, if not America, then for Ivan."

Belarus looked as though she wanted to interrupt, but before she could, Ukraine shot her an unusually stern gaze, and wound her free hair back into its former knot, and said lowly, "If you really loved our brother, _сестра_, than you would be happy for him no matter what. Do you not care for him?"

There was a moment's silence in the air, shocked and horrible. It hung around the two women no longer till Belarus grabbed her older sister's wrist, looking furious and indignant. Ukraine stood her ground and stared coolly at her, as though nothing was wrong.

"How _dare_ you say such things! How…why would you, what is wrong with you!" Belarus screamed, not moving from her position, but quivering from rage. She was angered so easily that, at times, it was almost enough to scare even her. "Me, not love my Ivan? Presumptuousness! I have been loyal, unwavering, gentle, and _loving_ to brother Russia for our, my, eternity! I have loved him so much more than that American; only I can provide for brother. That whore knows nothing! Nothing about my love! He is ignorant! Stupid, arrogant, and…and..!

"And he is going to wed my poor Ivan!" she finished, starting to tear up. She released her hold on her sister's wrist, and wiped her face, shame welling up in her eyes. She never cried. Crying was weak. It was for the vulnerable, and it was only for pity. Half-sobbing now, Belarus buried her face in her white hands and backed up so far that she accidently fell down into a chair.

"He is making the biggest mistake of his life, Katyusha! They will divorce only as soon as they have married! It will destroy Ivan, break his heart! Just think…" Belarus suddenly lifted her face and stared a concerned Ukraine in the eyes, as though she had just reached a terrible conclusion. "America is probably pregnant! That's it! Ivan would never marry for only that blonde's sake; I understand now. It is for the baby! He does not want to hurt the child!"

Sobbing harder than ever, Belarus curled her knees up to her flat chest, and rocked herself back and forth, shaking her head in a firm denial. Ukraine hurriedly stood from her seat, hair coming undone again, and rushed over to her sibling's shaking side, taking care not to trip over her floor-length white dress. Cooing, Ukraine took Belarus into her arms and gently ran her hands through soft, pale hair. Normally Belarus would have pushed her away, but she was now too weakened and too miserable to protest.

"_сестренка_," Ukraine began, taking Belarus's chin in her hand and forcing the crying girl to look her in the face. The sight of her baby sister's wet cheeks and scared eyes broke her heart, but she plowed on, "I am sorry. I did not mean…I know you love our brother, but…you must accept that he is love with another. He loves America, and yes, Belarus, the American loves him back. There is no use trying to deny it.

"And I'm absolutely sure America is not having a baby; he lacks the signs. And I would know, seeing as I have a firsthand experience." Ukraine looked fondly down at her flat belly, eyes softening even further as her thoughts drifted to her unborn child. A choked cry brought her attention to Belarus once more. "And Ivan loves you back. But only as his beautiful, caring little sister.

"You will always be precious to him."

Belarus, shaking, bitter, only shook her head wildly again, and pushed Ukraine away from her. She fell ungracefully from her seat, long hair flopping into her face, and stumbled toward the closed door. Ukraine stretched out her arm to her, but before she could move or speak the comforting words a heart-broken girl needed, Belarus yanked the door open, and just before she stepped from the room, Ukraine heard her whisper:

"_I _didn't know you were having a baby. Am I so insignificant that I cannot be trusted with anything?"

She shut the door behind, not looking back, and Ukraine could hear fast, heavy footsteps echo down the hall.

* * *

Shortly after her and her sister's blowout, Ukraine had spent many of the remaining hours until the wedding started searching for her, only to be severely disappointed by the results. There was nothing. No leads as to where her younger sibling had run off to.

She had not been hiding in the crowds of black and white tuxes and dresses. She was not anywhere in the grounds. Belarus had not hidden herself in the surrounding compact of the church walls, or, indeed, the bathrooms.

Finally, Ukraine had only a short while left to finish off the touches of her dress, hair, and face, and she was forced to the unpleasant conclusion that Belarus had simply left. Ukraine did not expect to see her back, but she had kept that faint hope held tightly to her chest as she straightened her pure-white dress, finally finished off her hair (now in a bun atop her head and covered in spots of elegant gold sprinkles), and applied just little enough of make-up to make an impact.

Sighing, Ukraine slowly stood from her chair, gave herself a last glance in the mirror, opened the door, and walked the main, large hallway to where she knew her Matthew was waiting. Her to-be husband.

Though Belarus's disappearance did seriously wound her, the realization of what was ahead for her future, and for Matthew's, too, did light a tiny smile to her face.

She was getting married. She would be no longer just a maiden, but a wife, and, eventually, hopefully, a mother.

Fantasies of her wedding cake, her friends and fellow countries lined up to join her and congratulate her marriage, and of Matthew, her kind, handsome fiancé dominated her thoughts as she abruptly found herself face-to-face with a painted wooden door.

Suddenly, a tiny bud of nervousness sprouted in her chest. This was her day. She was really about to do this. She was going to marry Matthew.

Ukraine and Canada had thought out all of the worst-case scenarios together just before the proposal, of course. But the thought of two nations truly being bonded…

What if our countries went to war?

(They won't hurt us. I won't let them, and I will always love you.)

What if our children are countries?

(Then they will last forever with us.)

How can you love for eternity?

Matthew had taken her hands at this last question, and, staring deep into her eyes, had whispered words into her ear. He had uttered reassurances and comforts. He had told Ukraine that he would always love her.

And she had said the same. She had accepted his proposal.

With a slightly trembling hand, Ukraine reached for the door, and pulled it open…

…to be met with silence. There were so, so many people! Nations and humans alike, all in all to a hundred. At the tiny whoosh of air from Ukraine's appearance, two hundred pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. In any normal situation, before she had gained confidence from Matthew, Ukraine would have frozen. She would have cried and ran from the scene, contempt never to look back. But she was not that cowardly woman she had once known. She was something different, courageous, and glorious in all of its shining beauty. So, trying her every best not to appear to be breathing heavily, she took a tiny step forward and eyes lit up. Breaths hitched in chests, expectant and awaiting.

Hungary, Belgium, Monaco, and a small black girl she had never really talked to, but knew by face, Seychelles, sat near the front of the row, but they were all turned to catch a glimpse of Ukraine in her bridal glory. Liechtenstein, the wedding's arranged Flower Girl, stood straight and tall beside them, the red petals of her thrown roses already scattering the floor ahead of Ukraine. Opposite of them were the Groomsmen: Netherlands, Lithuania, Estonia, France, and England. They, too, were peering at her, waiting. France grinned once she caught sight of him, and if it was not a wedding he was attending, he most likely would've wolf-whistled.

There was America, the Best man, standing close beside Matthew and holding a tiny, porcelain pillow which held a small golden ring. He winked at Ukraine before shifting slightly to look excitedly at his brother.

And then there was Matthew.

And, oh, was he handsome.

He was dressed the same as all the other men in the room: a black tux and tie, shiny pitch shoes, and carefully combed hair. But there was this unexplainable light to him, one that made him shine like the sun itself, bright and breathtaking. So much so that it almost felt wrong to stare at him for too long, like his beauty was something so much purer than anything you could ever find on Earth.

Maybe it was only Ukraine's imagination. Nobody else seemed fixated on Canada, only her. She almost felt for them. They could not see his elegance, his goodness. She had it all to herself.

But, little did she know, that very same glow surrounded her as well. It lit her up, and as she took three more small, dainty steps toward the sun, she felt as though even the hand on her shoulder could not even stop her. But as she felt another's skin touching her own, she looked up anyway.

Russia smiled down at her. Not one of his usual, almost childish, innocent smiles, but a pure, real one. One that wished Ukraine all the luck in the world, and told her that he approved.

"Come, Katyusha, you would not want to keep the groom waiting on your waiting day, would you?"

Ukraine smiled softly, and entwined her hand with Ivan's. He was playing role of Father of the Bride, even though he was not Ukraine's father, but her younger brother. He was close enough to Ukraine's age that he had volunteered to escort Ukraine on her wedding day, so that she would not feel so alone while walking down that pathway.

"_Nyet_," Ukraine murmured, taking a few steps forward and pulling a very willing Russia along with her. "I will make this day perfect…"

"And I will help you to do just that," Russia finished for her, looking ahead. His eyes twinkled happily, and it was in just that fraction of a second that Ukraine was suddenly relieved that Russia had not gone full-blown overprotective-brother on Canada. It had happened only once before in his presence, and hear dear ex-sweetheart had never been the same since…

Before Ukraine really knew what was happening, she felt Ivan's warm hands lift almost hesitantly away from hers, and instead was replaced by Matthew's even more heated ones. She started slightly when she realized that she had walked that seemingly long, forbidden path, filled to the brim with prying eyes, with no trouble at all.

The priest, (Ukraine had been so focused on getting to Matthew without losing her lunch that she had not even noticed Prussia was in the role of preparing their vows) grinned at them, and pulled a large black book from what seemed to be thin air and set it on a nearby readily-waiting tablet.

Prussia cleared his throat. Ukraine found herself clutching Matthew's hands, and he squeezed comfortingly back. She didn't know much about Prussia, only that he was split between Germany and her own brother, but she supposed he must be a very mild-mannered, helpful, trustworthy individual if he was granted with the job as important as a priest.

"Do you, Matthew Williams, take this _lovely _woman, Yekaterina Katyusha Braginskaya, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"

Canada had frowned very slightly as Prussia leaned in toward him during his speech, but it had almost instantly warped back into a beam.

"I do."

"And do _you_, Yekaterina Katyusha Braginskaya," Prussia said, swiveling from his position to give Ukraine one of the most intense expressions she had ever been subjected to, "take Matthew whatever-the-hell-his-middle-name-is Williams to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"

Prussia had said all of this very fast, and though Ukraine was barely able to make out the vows word by word, she understood. She took a breath.

"I do."

Their honored priest grinned a feral grin, one that showed each gleaming white tooth, and for one moment Ukraine suspected she had made a horrible mistake taking her vows under the albino.

"Then by the power invested in me, by Gilbird and by the lost maiden, Mistress Humanity, I, the awesome Prussia, pronounce you"—Prussia shook the cuffs of his tuxedo to check a gleaming silver watch. There was a few more seconds wait—"husband and wife!"

Prussia shouted the last bit, and just as he completed his final speech, a BOOM echoed outside the church grounds. There were quite a few shrieks of surprise from the bridesmaids in the front row, and Japan, who had a really awful phobia of thunder, halfway jumped into a neighboring China's lap, looking on at the scene in wonder. China simply looked amused, if slightly surprised at the younger country's actions.

"Oh damn," Prussia muttered, wincing and turning to stare out the window, where the source of the sound had come from. "That'll be the microphones.

"Er…you two might want to kiss and straighten your vows, like, right now."

Ukraine didn't need any encouragement. Wrapping her arms around a still bemused Canada, she pulled the taller man, her husband, into a deep kiss. She had, of course, kissed her husband before, but this was different. She could feel their bond strengthen and entwine their very own souls, their love, together. Unbreakable and unyielding.

She heard shouts and cheers of great joy all around her; no matter where she attempted to zero in on the source, she could not find it. But she didn't care. All that mattered was the now. The present.

And right now she was a wife. Right now she was so deeply immersed in her love's basking warmth that everything else seemed painfully insignificant.

She would've stayed that way forever if not for the blonde, long-haired head bobbing along with many others; one that Ukraine immediately caught sight of once she opened her eyes.

Belarus stared on at the scene with an unreadable expression, but once she noticed her older sister looking straight back at her, she nodded once, and turned away once more.

Ukraine smiled and nuzzled Matthew's nose. Her sister had come for her wedding.

Grinning in a mischievous manner that reminded Ukraine so much of America's, Canada hoisted his new wife in his arms bridal-style, and gave her another short kiss. Ukraine squeaked with joy at the unexpected (but not really) action, and coiled herself even deeper into Matthew.

"So, Mrs. Williams," Canada said teasingly, (Ukraine gave a little start. She had forgotten that once she was married, she would no longer be Katyusha Braginskaya) "What's next for us? Where to now? My home or maybe yours?"

Ukraine smiled and buried her face into her husband's chest as she felt tears well up at the sides of her eyes. But, for once, they were not tears of sorrow or pain or hurt, but of joy.

"I don't really mind either way. Canada or Ukraine, I will always be complete with you."

* * *

The tiny baby girl shook her fat fists in the air, softly mewling in her new cradle, as though she was unaccustomed to its plush softness. She had, after all, only spent the last few days growing used to the world outside of her mother.

Cooing, Ukraine gently wrapped her arms around her newborn child, careful not to lift her too soon or too quickly. Anastasia. That was this girl's new name. That was her child's name.

And it fit her beautifully. Matthew fully agreed, of course.

Anastasia let out a tiny whine again, and Ukraine smiled before reaching over to grab the plush, blue baby blanket lying on the side of her crib. The moment her daughter felt the warmth of her coat, she instantly grabbed blindly at its sides and snuggled in its crown.

At the sound of a soft chuckle and arms around her waist, Ukraine looked up from her daughter, only to be met with Canada's wide, pale eyes, staring down in warm adoration at their child.

"She's so adorable," Canada murmured, waggling his finger in front of Anastasia's face, which the baby weakly swatted away. That only made him smile more, and he set his chin on Ukraine's shoulder. "Ooh, a fighter, too."

Scowling slightly but with twinkling eyes, but still frowning nonetheless, Ukraine said, "Matthew, don't. She was only just released from the hospital. You don't want to put too much stress on her. Maybe wait a few days, and then you can act as dorky and fatherly as you want."

After her mini-scolding to her husband, Ukraine gently set the now still baby down back in her crib.

"You only just got out of the hospital, too, Katyusha," Canada muttered, indignant. "And you've had _plenty _of stress put on you these last few days. Honestly, you're stupid boss couldn't wait just a couple of months so that a mother could actually get to know her own child, for Christ's sake. But, _no_, instead he sends you out to work and work and work. What kind of boss does that?"

"A country's boss, that's who," Ukraine said, fidgeting with Anastasia's blanket. Once she was satisfied, she turned toward her husband again, and waggled a finger at him.

"And anyway, Matthew, she's not quite as old as I am. I'll still see her after work and on the weekdays. Maybe more…"

"But still, Katyusha, it's completely ridiculous!" Matthew said, catching Ukraine's hand in his, and leading her toward the bedroom, for Anastasia had grown completely silent and still. "There is absolutely no reason why you should still work right smack after you went into labor for 8 hours! It's just wrong; nobody's that loyal to their job." Canada suddenly looked thoughtful.

"Except for maybe Japan. Do you remember when he and China were planning their wedding and Japan said he wasn't sure how he would be able to make the decorations, prepare the seats, and hand out all the invitations without getting behind on his work? And China had told him that since Japan was the bride he wasn't _supposed _to be doing any of those things, and then Japan—"

"Matthew," Ukraine said intently, leading him so that they both sat side-by-side on their bed. She leaned in to Canada's face and put her palm up to his cheek, loving the adorable expression he had adopted like he always did when going into hyper-drive mode. "You talk too much."

She had no time to close the gap between their lips, as Canada did it for her. He pressed harder against her soft, pink lips, asking for permission, and Ukraine very willingly complied. Her hand slipped into Canada's pale blonde hair, while Matthew's arm snaked itself around her middle.

After a few moments time passed of kissing, Ukraine switched their positions and, palm on Canada's chest, pushed him down unto the bedspread. Canada, after many experiences same as this one, did not blush like he might've done so long ago, but stayed silent as Ukraine unbuttoned her shirt slightly.

She leaned over to whisper into his ear, and whispered, "Do you think Anastasia will stay asleep?"

"Only as long as we stay quiet," he replied, pushing himself up on his arms to meet her mouth again.

Laughing as Canada started to make multiple bizarre faces, she lowered herself to rest fully on his chest, and kissed and kissed him time and time again.

* * *

**Wow, that was a LOT more fun than I thought it'd be! I really enjoyed writing this, especially the wedding part.**

**I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason I love writing rare pairings so much is because you have the opportunity to write something original and different without fretting that another shipper made something similar. Yay!**

**I hope you enjoyed. As always, please review, and thanks for reading!**

**Current word count: 6,485**


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